Ephemeral Us

And our stories

Bloodroot is said to bloom for just one day.

Our community lost two amazing people in ten days, one of whom lived right across the street from me. Both had had huge impacts on so many people and on our town in general. One of them died just about six weeks after discovering she had cancer; the other had a sudden heart attack and was gone in minutes. It has been shocking and, of course, difficult.

I read various things about Buddhism and the Buddhist principles, including, of course, impermanence. Lately I’ve been rereading Sylvia Boorstein’s wonderful book, It’s Easier Than You Think—The Buddhist Way to Happiness. She writes, “We are verbs, not nouns, experiences unfolding, stories telling themselves as sequels to other stories previously told . . . fundamentally related to all stories, totally empty of anything separate or unique or enduring.” That last part is a little tricky to completely comprehend or accept.

I love the first part—we are verbs, not nouns . . . —and I get the point about experiences unfolding, but the rest—totally empty of anything separate or unique or enduring—is harder. I like to think that I am unique and that all of those people I love or simply know are unique, and somehow enduring, at least in memory. But I suppose it is true that after we’re gone, we endure only as stories, if at least the felt stories that live in others’ minds, hearts, and even bodies.

“ . . . th’ inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circle orb . . .”

My overwhelming feeling now is that very common one of getting a wake-up call. It’s not as if I am not living my life and I could even argue that I’m living my best life. I am doing things that I love every single day. I have deep affection for so much of what we have here on Earth. I care deeply about many people, too. I feel lucky to have all that I do have. But these two losses give me pause. They drive home the point that I really could go at any time. And so could anyone, anyone that I love, which feels worse. People do. We all will.

So it shifts a person’s thinking, at least a little, when it hits close to home. Maybe you take a little deeper look at the people in your life, friends and family that you want to hold closer. Maybe you open your heart wider to all of them, and at least a bit more to people in general. Maybe you think twice about saying no to this or that chance to see someone. You know, you have opportunities to spend time with people who matter and maybe you think you’d better do it while you can. I, who am so protective of my time, with all of my solo pursuits, am looking harder at that. On Friday I walked in a favorite spot with a favorite friend. Then I sat in the lovely yard of another friend from whom I had become a little distant and we shared memories of the neighbor who had died and was being buried right then. Then I went to the Tiny Book Club of me and another friend I love, just us two, and we talked about books and played a little Mahj. Finally, I went to see the widow of the wonderful man who has just died. I spent almost the whole day in the company of women I value very much. I failed to do any art or devote any time to the course I’m taking or even do the PT for my hand and wrist. I ended the day feeling more connected. I knew I had been right where I needed to be.

I think, too, about my family who live so far away, and I wonder if I could arrange my life in such a way that I can get to them quickly if something comes up. I suggested to my sisters that maybe we could plan a yearly gathering of the family, rather than a true family reunion, something looser than that once a year that we could aim for but that would not take so much planning.

Things just rearrange themselves in our minds when people die. Their stories have ended but they do go on in us and have an effect, so that then our own stories are changed. We consider all the ways in which these people who are now gone but whose stories we remember have affected us, and we ourselves are changed.

That word “story” has been jumping out at me lately. As a result, I have it on my Art Board, a compilation of things I want to have in my art going forward. I will keep you posted on that.

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.” - Gilda Radner

“It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.” - Patrick Rothfuss

“But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin.” - Mitch Albom

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Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”